


kingly illusions

by puckity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Improper Use of Seidr, Intersex Loki (Marvel), M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive Thor (Marvel), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Praise Kink, Sibling Incest, The Infamous Stallion Story, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16560239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckity/pseuds/puckity
Summary: Thor scoffed. “It is a king’s duty to be tired in service of his people.”Loki took a few calculated steps forward. “And who services the king?”





	kingly illusions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goandgetthegunarchive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goandgetthegunarchive/gifts).



> I'm so happy to be participating in the amazing **30 Days of Fanfic** collection--hosted by [fanficdoc](https://fanficdoc.tumblr.com/)\--in support of their incredible fandom documentary [**_These Stories Belong To Us_**](https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/these-stories-belong-to-us-a-fanfic-documentary#/)!
> 
> Please go check them out and support the project, if you are able to!
> 
> Written for the lovely [goandgetthegun](http://goandgetthegun.tumblr.com/)\--who has been a wonderful friend and who graces me (and all of us!) with the frequent spoils of her talents! This particular story was inspired by [these criminally](https://gagtgart.tumblr.com/post/176238961185/a-gift-for-my-pal-puckity-for-being-just-the-dang)-[hot pieces](https://gagtgart.tumblr.com/post/176239036875/a-gift-for-my-pal-puckity-for-being-just-the-dang). ❤❤❤
> 
> Beta'd by the long-suffering [Rachel](http://betterwithsparkles.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can also follow me on [Tumblr](http://puckity.tumblr.com/), if you'd like.

“Where have you been, brother?” Thor hunched down in the command chair, swiveled his knees to take in the empty room. “You disappeared from that council meeting rather quickly.”

“I had other princely duties to attend to.” Loki stepped inside and let the door seal behind him. “Though I am glad to hear that my presence was missed.”

“Indeed.” Thor took note of the soft, loose tunic and britches—unhindered by tight leather or decorative fastenings—that hung from his brother’s lean frame. He sat up a bit straighter. “What duties were those, then?”

Loki waved his hand as though Thor’s question was nothing more than a gnat he could swat away. “No concern for a king, or at least not one as tired as ours seems to be.”

Thor scoffed. “It is a king’s duty to be tired in service of his people.”

Loki hummed, took a few calculated steps forward. “And who services the king?”

“Oh, that’s terrible.” Thor rolled his eyes, shook his head and hit the soles of his boots against the steel floor. “For all the practice you got on Sakaar, I’m surprised that your skills for flattery have not improved.”

“I could disappear again, if you’d prefer that.” Loki snapped back, crossing his arms high across his chest. “I have no doubt that I could find others abroad this creaking barge who would beg for my services.”

“I’m sure that you could, but you do not need to.” Thor reached out, waved for Loki to come closer. “I forget sometimes that you do not care for my jokes.”

“Only if they lack humour, as is so often the case.” Loki shot Thor a cold look; when he started walking again he made sure to drag his heels, purposefully leaving scuff marks behind him.

Thor waited until he was near—made sure to grasp him firm by his slim, exposed wrist—before he laughed, holding him fast so that he couldn’t pull away. “What services have you come to offer me, brother?”

Loki pressed his lips into a sour line and looked for a moment like he meant to challenge Thor further. Perhaps, Thor mused, Loki had come to bicker and provoke him into a rough scuffle—just as they’d played at in their youth when tensions were high and distractions sparse. The claustrophobia of kingship weighed thick upon him these days and a bout of rough housing may indeed help in alleviating some of those paralyzing responsibilities.

Of course, there were other methods of alleviation that—if not more pleasant—were at least pleasant in a different way. The heady surge of sparring had its merits, but so too did the teasing sway of his brother’s hips beneath the single slip of light fabric. Loki wore three layers of heavy, regal clothing at his most casual and had done so since long before they had come to know each other as more than brothers; if he wore any less, it was only ever as an invitation.

He let his grip on Loki’s wrist go slack, ran his fingers under the wide tunic sleeve and tugged at the hem. Loki flicked a green spark out from the palm of his other hand and Thor tensed—just for a moment—until the tarnished chrome and rusted steel around them began to give way to coats of gleaming gold, melting down as though the room were being dipped into a molten pot. The details crystallized once everything was encased in golden splendor: rich engravings, delicate swirls, and the broad horns of Hliðskjálf branching out behind him. It hung like a gauzy curtain around them; Thor knew that if he focused too hard on any one piece the veil would be lifted but still his breath caught shallow in his throat, hooked to an ache that he’d spent the dull days since Ragnarok shoving aside.

“You should have at least one chance to sit upon our father’s throne.” Loki spoke soft and strange, then added: “As king.”

It was a cruel taunt if Loki meant it as such, but his downcast eyes and the slight tremor in his limbs made Thor pause before he spoke again. When last they had stood in the Great Hall of their forefathers—before enmity tore them apart, or at least before Thor knew how it festered in all of his brother’s open wounds—they had both been padded out with youth and the arrogance of a legacy secured by their father’s lies. Now the time they had spent adrift and unraveling, shorter than most of the adventures they’d embarked on under Odin’s reign but more formative than their centuries of journeys combined, had left them jagged and rough-spined. The ease with which they had once been able to torment each other had been matched then by the guileless vulnerability they could also share; now both were lost to the ashes of their old world.

“I would share it with you.” Thor guided Loki in front of him until his thighs knocked against Thor’s knees, but did not pull him any further. “If not always, then at least for this moment.”

Loki trailed his fingertips along the seams of Thor’s leggings, tickling across the knots of his kneecap. “It is not a seat made for two…and even if it was, your bulk would make it uncomfortable for anyone sturdier than a waif.”

“Perceptive as always, Loki.” Thor grinned, bared his teeth and watched Loki swallow against it. “But you are the most resourceful being I have yet known in the Nine Realms and beyond—I’m sure you could concoct a solution if you put your mind to it.”

The edges of Loki’s mouth curled down. He seemed to bristle again at Thor’s ribbing and Thor was just about to offer some more soothing placations when Loki snatched at the empty air with his hand. Thor was hit with a cold breeze and sudden shiver; his clothes had evaporated—it was one of the oldest tricks his brother liked to play, regardless of where they were or who was with them—and after a few beats they reappeared, dropped from a hole of nothingness and onto a heap in the far corner of the room.

Loki’s gaze scrubbed over him like unpolished bath stone, like he wanted to strip Thor further past skin and the meat of his muscles. Thor leaned back against the plush seiðr-spun cushions and let his legs slide open. His cock twitched, half at the naked chill and half at the hungry tic in his brother’s jaw.

“I thought you meant to service me—not the other way around.” Thor ran one hand slow from his neck to the crease of his hip, pinching at a nipple and rubbing across the firm panes of his stomach for show. He pulled at his heavy balls but avoided the base of his cock, let Loki watch it grow thick and hard on its own.

Loki blinked up at him as though he had only just realized that he was being spoken to. Thor bit back a smirk; Loki was fitful and capricious and had long believed that that made him inscrutable as well, but Thor had always been able to read him. He had not always taken the time and care to do so but that fell to his lack of practice rather than to Loki being an impenetrable mystery. These recent years of turmoil and strife had thus proven to be a strict teacher for Thor and no lesson had been harder gained than that of relearning his brother. Now he could match Loki step for step and found that there was a familiar satisfaction there, like outmaneuvering an opposing army on the battlefield or delighting an admirer with an unexpected token.

He had long understood that Loki craved attention and praise but he had not realized that it was from _him_ that Loki sought them the most earnestly, nor could he have imagined the lengths to which his brother would reel without them. But here, on the other side of the end of the world, Thor knew that he could give this to his brother. It was not always a small task, nor was it without occasional—or frequent—frustrations, but it kept peace in their new patchwork kingdom. And besides, it made Loki happy more often than not, which was reward enough for Thor.

The fact that Loki tended to repay his spites and favours in equal turns was secondary, of course—just a bonus incentive. That he’d rather have his brother panting and pliant instead of snarling and slashing was no great surprise; that he could fall apart with Loki now in ways which—puffed up on the desperate rush to prove his worth to his brother and himself—he never could during their younger trysts was something more fragile that he kept fluttering between them.

“And why should the service not be mutual?” Loki rustled out of his thin clothes and kicked them away. The delay that came from undressing without magical aid was, Thor supposed, Loki’s attempt at one last bit of punishment. “As you said, I am resourceful. I’m sure that I can make it worth both our whiles.”

Thor watched a pink flush creep across the wide stretches of ice-pale skin that their father had sealed over the deep blue of Loki’s Jötunn form. Cracks had already started forming in patches, places where the seams of the All-Father’s seiðr strained after his death. Thor knew that the majority of Loki’s magic these days—that which he did not spend in the healing halls or on manifesting bursts of color and music for the children when he thought no one (but especially Thor) was looking—was put towards maintaining the visible facade on his hands and face, and as such he often could not sustain other extensive or lengthy illusions. Hliðskjálf and the Great Hall alone must have been draining but he was also keeping up his full Asgardian sheen, erasing not only the blue tracks but also the scars and notches and anything else that marked his body with a past.

Loki reached up and toyed with the ends of his long, dark hair. “I can cut these. Return your shaggy locks to you, and your eye as well. Bring us back to our youthful days of glory, if you’d like.”

Thor shook his head, leaned forward to grab at Loki’s waist and spin him around, then led Loki back until his breath was hot along the top of his brother’s spine. Holding him by the hips safe and steady, Thor sat Loki down upon his lap and let his own cock bob out in front of them.

“I don’t think I would like to go back to those days, despite their glory. And I would not have you go back either, or be anything other than you are.” Thor massaged up the slopes of Loki’s arms and down the dip of his chest; he could feel the seiðr fractures beneath the sheen and kissed at Loki’s shoulder blade whenever his nails caught against their edges. “Besides, I’d like to think that I have gained some useful experience in this field since then.”

“Are you certain that you have not traded this new insight for stamina, brother?” Loki ground back impatiently, tried to reach between them but Thor held him with one fist tight at the wrists.

“I think you’ve goaded me enough for one evening. But if you are truly unimpressed by my talents…” Thor snaked his free hand down Loki’s body—brushed once against his smooth, straining cock and then left it behind to delve lower. A sticky-warm wetness had already begun dripping down the inside of Thor’s thighs and tucked away behind Loki’s small balls he found it: soft, yielding folds of flesh that his brother had spent most of his life coating with so many layers of magic that no one—not his mighty brother and, eventually, not even himself—would know it was there.

The first time Thor had opened his brother’s legs—after a taxing day of bartering at an outpost and dividing up rations for the citizens—and found a cunt, he had assumed it was a modification Loki thought he desired. Thor had tried to reassure his brother only to find Loki snappish and defensive; they scratched and shouted at each other for a bit before Thor got the truth out of him—Loki was simply too exhausted that day to continue obscuring it.

Thor had done his best then to convince his brother that that was a secret better shared, and after his third orgasm Loki begrudgingly agreed. It was not fertile, he had assured Thor, whether from birth or through its long concealment—but that had not mattered, had never even crossed Thor’s mind for possibilities, and he told Loki as much. He still did not always reveal it—whether out of preference or lingering discomfort—but whenever Loki chose to drop the last of his facades Thor made sure to notice.

“I see now that my abilities have little effect on you, brother.” Thor rubbed his fingertips around the rim of Loki’s cunt but did not press in. “I should be ashamed of the bawdy songs sung in my honour throughout the branches of Yggdrasil, for I clearly am unworthy of their claims.”

Loki squirmed like he was caught between pushing down against Thor’s touch and flinching away from it. “I have heard those songs often, and must say that they oversell your prowess a bit. I mean, five hundred Vanir virgins in a fortnight? If I remember correctly—and I _do_ —it was seven virgins and one very eager stable boy, though you were in your cups for most of that celebration anyway.”

“Mm, well…” Thor dragged his fingers up to the small nub—more discreet and hidden than the others he had encountered throughout his varied dalliances—and traced it softly, relishing how Loki went tense and shivery with it. “If we are comparing reputations, I’ve heard quite a few ballads about you that differ rather dramatically from what I recall happening. For instance, that tale of the stallion—”

“You swore that you would never again mention that in my presence!” Loki twisted, wrenched himself so suddenly that Thor nearly lost his grip and dropped him onto the metal floor. “Of all your perverse indiscretions across the centuries—and those of our father, and his fathers before him— _that_ is what these wretched bards choose to commemorate! The next person who so much as insinuates about that tryst, I will knot their vocal chords in their own throats!”

Thor barked out a laugh, booming and clear, then wound his arms low around Loki’s chest and pulled him in close.

“Alright, alright, I yield—and now that I’ve matched your teasing for the night, I would take up that challenge to prove myself seven-virgins-and-a-stable-boy worthy.” He reached for Loki’s cock, gave it one firm stroke. “If you’ll allow it, brother.”

Thor paused, gave a few more slow strokes and waited to see if Loki had any more resistance in him. Not resistance to _this_ —Thor knew he did not—nor even resistance to his brother’s gentle orders, but rather resistance for its own sake. Resistance to anything, everything, even to a self built from contradictions. Resistance if only so he could say that, though he may have bent, he had never broken.

It was a lie of comfort, one they’d both indulged in, and Thor could no longer bring himself to demand absolute truth from Loki there. If his brother needed to resist, then Thor could be his counterforce. _Would_ be his counterforce, for there would— _could_ —never be one better suited for the duty.

But today—today Loki’s resistance gave way, drained from him like a sieve and Thor felt the moment that Loki’s bones stopped rattling against his hold.

“I’ll allow it.” A sigh, like a prayer into the glittering stretch of space; Loki dropped his head back against Thor’s shoulder and spread his legs wider across Thor’s lap.

Thor pressed his lips to the fine line of Loki’s collarbone, then up the cords of his brother’s neck and under the knife-cut of his jaw. He dusted soft kisses over Loki’s cheeks and watched a burn of red flush across them; it was a silly thing, but the ache that settled in his chest—at the reserves of modesty his shameless brother still had, at how transparent Loki was when he let even an inch of his guard down, at the fluster Thor could still inspire in him even after all this fractured time—held far more power over Thor than his impatient lust.

_Sentiment_ , Loki would sneer—and he would not be wrong. He had never been wrong about that.

“I would bury myself so deep in you, brother, that Valhalla would hold no bliss comparable for me when I arrive at its gates.” Thor growled, something feral rising in him.

With one fist he started up a steady pace on Loki’s cock, biting at Loki’s ear so that his brother would feel some of the same sting. Then he ran his other hand across Loki’s thigh, dipped his fingertips into the slick between their legs and rubbed more purposefully at that small nub at the top of Loki’s cunt. His brother whined and writhed in his lap now—nails digging into Thor’s forearms without trying to push him off—needy in a way that Thor knew he could allay.

“Shh, brother, calm yourself.” Thor pressed a slow finger inside him. “It would do my reputation a disservice to take my pleasure without adequate preparations.”

Loki huffed, muttered something dark that sounded like a curse.

“What was that?” Thor did not add another finger, though he was certain that Loki could’ve taken his whole hand by now.

“I am prepared!” Loki shouted; no doubt he had hoped to sound severe, but it came out as more of a yelp. “And if you don’t take your pleasure soon, I will take it for you!”

At that, Thor snorted and let go of Loki’s cock. Then he slid his finger out of Loki’s cunt entirely, gripped the base of his own cock, and thrust in hard. Loki jerked up and away, held himself over Thor with only the head of Thor’s cock inside him, then eased down until he had taken all of Thor in.

“Does it hurt?” Thor reached up again to spread precome around the head of Loki’s cock with his thumb, avoiding his cunt as he adjusted.

“No,” Loki shook his head. “It’s just…it’s always sensitive.”

Thor nodded, tightened his fist around his brother’s cock. “Do you need a distraction?”

“I need you to move,” Loki gritted out. “The rest, hopefully, will follow.”

Thor hummed low, rolled his hips gentle and deep. “I can do that.”

A few more thrusts and Loki was panting, hair sweat-soaked and hanging in tangled curls down the nape of his neck. Thor brushed it aside, kissed the notches of Loki’s spine and let his beard tickle the hunch of his back. He smiled against his brother’s skin—blue undertones scratching at the surface—as Loki swatted Thor’s hand away from his twitching cock and took over for himself, greedy strokes matching the beat of Thor’s hips pounding into him.

“Already, Loki?” Thor needled, relishing the slight tremor of Loki’s legs and the sharp crease between his brows, as though he were frustrated by this revelation.

“You claimed a duty to service me, but I see now that you had only your own servicing in mind.” He sank his teeth into the meat of Loki’s back. “As always, brother.”

Somewhere between the hiss of pleasure-pain and Thor’s relentless rhythm inside him, Loki went rigid—held his breath and then gasped it out as he came thick and sticky across their laps, hitting the floor just at the edge of the gilded illusion. Once the aftershocks eased he slumped back, lazy and sated like the spoiled princeling he had once been, and ran his palms down the straining muscles of Thor’s thighs.

“You may have your pleasure now, my king.” Loki’s eyes were closed, a smirk curled in the corners of his mouth.

“Oh,” Thor grinned, shifting to grip Loki rough enough by the waist to bruise dark the next day. “I will.”

He brought his free hand to his lips and licked the pads of his fingertips, made sure that they would not chafe, then returned his attentions once more to that nub. Wary of the balance between _so much_ and _too much_ , Thor kept his movements constant but delicate—not applying too much pressure or rubbing too aggressively, but also not losing focus and stuttering in his rhythm. Loki stiffened at first, probably would have put up more of a fight if he hadn’t already come once, but then the buzz of his tension changed in frequency. Thor could feel the surge of wetness inside his brother, groaned against the slick heat as Loki’s boneless limbs shuddered around him.

“I have known no greater anguish in my life than that which you have given me, Loki.” Thor murmured; the feat of speech itself seemed too taxing in this moment. “But I have also known no greater pleasure. Thank you for sharing this with me…with _only_ me.”

It was a presumption but also a truth, and Thor knew them both now. Loki shook his head weakly, opened his mouth but nothing came out save for a crackling whimper.

Thor soothed him, even as he chased his own release with vicious energy. “I could share you with anyone—could give you all the freedom you so recklessly crave—but I could not bear to share this. This is ours alone, brother.”

Loki nodded frantically, mindlessly. He shook and thrashed and finally keened—sounding like some mournful, wounded thing—as Thor felt the spasms begin to overtake him. He followed Loki then, at last, coming deep inside his brother with the secret hope that a permanent part of him would take root there. Not a child, of course, but some mark that claimed Loki as his so that—however far he strayed—Thor would always be able to find him.

When he opened his eyes—he had not realized they’d been squeezed shut—he caught sight of the tears streaking down Loki’s splotchy cheeks. His brother’s thin lips were pursued, drained of all color, and Thor began to extricate himself in alarm.

Loki stopped him with a palm pushed flat to his chest, only trembling a bit. “No, just…give it a moment. Please.”

Thor stilled.

“Just until the illusion fades.” Loki whispered, allowing Thor to gather him up and rock them both against the flickering seiðr.

“Of course.” Thor leaned in and pressed a kiss to Loki’s damp forehead, willing the spell to spin itself on into oblivion.


End file.
